


The Silence of the Mind

by alex_caligari



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Genocide, Mass Destruction, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, The Year That Never Was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-13 18:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_caligari/pseuds/alex_caligari
Summary: Torchwood runs as the Master rises.





	1. International Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2011.

"What happened to being outside the government?" Gwen asked from the back of the car.

"It was a formal request from Mr. Saxon," Tosh replied. "We may be outside the government, but it's helpful to stay on their good side.”

"But Nepal? It's a little beyond Britain's sphere of influence, isn't it?"

"It's for the improvement of international relations," Ianto joined in from the driver's seat. "At least that's what the memo said. And it's a chance for a bit of travel."

"I hate travelling," I said, "almost as much as I hate camping. Everything has to be boiled. Water. Food. Socks."

"Socks?" Gwen said incredulously. "You honestly boil your socks, Owen?"

"Well, no, but you can see my point. I'm just saying that you get paranoid about everything when you travel, and then you start...overcompensating."

Both women were behind me, but I could still tell they shared a glance. Tosh spoke first. "And you overcompensate by boiling your socks? What is that compensating for, exactly?" She had an amazing poker face, and the question was asked in her typical all-in-the-name-of-science voice. Gwen was smothering giggles.

"What are we looking for again?" I asked in an effort to distract them. It was like working with teenagers sometimes.

"There were reports of something landing here. Something the local authorities couldn't identify," Ianto said.

I snorted. "Local authorities. What'd they say it looked like?"

I heard Tosh clicking away on her laptop. "A black obelisk covered with carvings. People say it makes strange noises at night, sort of like voices. One person swears it was speaking German."

"Great. We've stepped into a Kubrick film. It wouldn't be Rift junk this far out. How'd it get here?"

“‘It fell from the sky and burned across the fields, leaving nothing but fire in its wake,’” Tosh quoted.

"Bit melodramatic," Gwen said.

"It also says that anything that touches it is reduced to dust."

"No touching. Got it."

Silence fell in the vehicle. There was always more silence those days, ever since, well, since we were abandoned. Christ. I wondered what it was that made us keep coming back to this. Tosh had her tech and her toys; Gwen liked to think she was saving the world one screw-up at a time; Ianto probably had some fetish for chaos. I didn't even know why I still came back.

What do you call the countryside of Nepal? Nepalian? Nepalese? It was goddamn monotonous, for one thing. Villages made more of huts than houses. Cattle everywhere. Typical that this thing had to land in the middle of nowhere.

I heard more clicking from Tosh.

“Did you hear about Saxon’s promise to give us aliens? He even showed a few on a live broadcast. He called them Toclafane.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Ianto said.

“Do we really need to be advertising ourselves to more aliens?” I asked. “Shouldn’t we be there in case something goes wrong, instead of stuck here?”

No one bothered to answer. I had been asking the same question since we left, and everyone took it as an excuse to stay behind. Ianto pulled over beside a field conspicuously empty of anything alien. Tosh already had a tracker out and was pointing it in various directions. Gwen chuffed me on the arm, trying to be friendly. “C’mon, Owen. At least enjoy the view.”

In the distance beyond the barren field rose the Himalayas, with snowy slopes and caps lost in cloud banks. “It’s not bad,” I admitted. “Bit windy.”

Gwen gave up and followed Tosh, already in the field. She was walking towards a pile of dead brush that couldn’t be more than three feet high.

“I thought it’d be bigger,” Gwen said.

Tosh was frowning at her device. “It should be right here...” she muttered. She began pulling away bits of the brush. I walked over to help when Tosh uncovered what looked like an ordinary strongbox.

“That’s a bit anti-climactic,” Ianto said.

Gwen began reaching for the lid when Tosh stopped her. “At least let me scan it first.” She ran her device over the box and frowned at it again. “This is definitely where the signal is coming from. It has alien markers all over it.”

“And this is the thing that vaporizes the people that touch it, yeah?” I asked, looking pointedly at Gwen.

She made a face at me. “It’s also supposed to be a black obelisk.”

Tosh continued. “There doesn’t seem to be anything harmful about it. No radiation or triggering device. Just broadcasting a signal.”

“So, it’s been reaching out to us,” Gwen said. “It wants us to find it.”

We glanced at each other. Gwen, hopeful; Tosh, expectant; Ianto, wary; and me, impatient.

“Let’s open it then,” I said. “If we came all this way not to have something interesting happen, I’ll be very disappointed.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “You had to say that, didn’t you?”

Tosh bent down and slowly opened the lid while we braced ourselves for whatever might come out. It was a small LED display attached to a solar panel. As the light hit it, the display lit up and red blinking letters spelled out ‘TAG YOU’RE IT.’

“Trap,” I said and turned to the car.

“Agreed,” said Ianto. We ran back.

Chaos was erupting in the villages we drove through. People were running and gathering up children, and the sky had a strange orange tint to it. “Tosh!” I said. “What’s going on?”

She was madly scanning through her laptop. “I don’t know, I...oh my god,” she said.

“What? What is it? Tosh, c’mon!” I said when she didn’t speak.

“The President of the United States was assassinated. They were all on the airship Valiant, and the Toclafane appeared. They killed him. Saxon...Christ, he’s gone mad. He’s controlling them. He told them to kill President Winters.”

“But that’s over the Atlantic,” Ianto said, narrowly avoiding an oncoming Jeep. “What’s happening here?”

“The Toclafane are coming. Reports are coming in from all over. The sky opened up and millions of them came down. They’re spreading all over the world.” Tosh drew a shaky breath. “They’re killing people.”

I hit the dashboard. “I knew we should have been there! Alien encounter promoted all over the world and where do we go? Fucking Nepal on a mission Saxon gave us. It was a distraction to draw us away.”

“Now what do we do?” Gwen asked.

No one answered. We all jumped when Gwen’s mobile rang. She answered it. “Hello?” She pulled it away from her ear, looking pale. “It’s Saxon. He wants me to put it on speakerphone.”

A very familiar voice came out of the tiny speaker. “I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Torchwood, yes? At least what’s left of it.”

“Yes, this is Torchwood,” Gwen replied.

“They said you were a clever lot. Did you like your trip? I’ve heard that the countryside this time of year is absolutely-”

“What do you want?” I interrupted.

“Patience, patience. I like sportsmanship in others and thought I might give it a try as well. I already gave your friends a warning yesterday; I’ll give you the same one.”

Gwen resumed speaking. “What friends?”

“I told them to run,” Saxon said, ignoring her. “And they listened for a while. But then they did something stupid, and they’ll pay for it. One of them already has. But I will tell you the same and I hope you listen better than they did. Run. Run for your lives. Have fun!” The call ended abruptly.

“Fantastic,” I said dully. “The safest place we could be is on the other side of the world.”

We rode in silence again.

“We’re being hunted,” Ianto said after a while, “so we have to hide.” He glanced at me. “We have to split up.” He pulled off the road suddenly and turned off the engine. “Grab what you can carry and we’ll each take a different direction. And leave behind anything they can track, like mobiles.”

Gwen was starting to panic in the backseat. “Ianto, this can’t be happening. What about Rhys? I have to call him, I have to make sure. I can’t lose him again!”

“Gwen,” he said, much calmer than I’m sure he felt. “He knows to keep his head down. He won’t attract attention to himself, and there’s nothing you can do from here. Trust him. Meanwhile, we have to stay alive and avoid capture. And to do that, we have to go underground. Break off contact entirely.” He looked at each one of us. “Agreed?”

“For how long?” Tosh asked.

Instead of answering her, Ianto climbed out of the car and pulled out his mobile and communicator. He dropped both on the driver’s seat.

Half an hour later, all our communication equipment had been hidden in the car, and we each had a pack filled with clothes, water, money, and fake IDs. “That’s the last of it,” Ianto said as he locked the car with the keys inside. The moment we had been trying to put off was here. It was bad enough that we were cut off from all the resources we had, but we were going to be cut off from each other, too.

“North, south, east, west?” I said, pointing to each of us in turn. They nodded, but we all hesitated. Would we see each other again? “Right,” I said, “might as well get a move on.” I waved to them and ignored the fear I saw on their faces. I turned west and started walking.


	2. Anonymous

It only lasted twelve weeks.

Twelve weeks of walking and hiding, stealing food and sleeping in rubbish, all for nothing. They couldn’t have found me on their own; I was too careful for that. The family I was staying with had sold me out, for information most likely, or protection. All the warning I had was the door crashing open in the middle of the night, and before I could even grab my gun, I was tranquilized. I woke up on a transport truck.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

I took stock of my situation: I was lying on my side with zip ties around my wrists, my ankles chained to the bench, and a killer headache behind my eyes. A nasty looking grunt in uniform sat across from me, holding a very large semi-automatic. Through the window, I could see sunlight and greenery, but couldn’t tell where we were.

“So, Lurch, where are we going?” I asked the grunt, pushing myself up. He didn’t respond. “I assume this is for Saxon, yeah? No chance I’ve been captured by a roaming band of freedom fighters?” I glanced at his uniform. No rank, no name. No insignia of any sort. An anonymous soldier, easy to replace.

He looked young.

“Your mother knows what you’re up to these days?”

“The prisoner will be silent,” the grunt said.

“Touched a nerve, have I?” I stared at him, drawing out the silence. “Was she spared?”

“I said be quiet!” He backhanded me across the face and returned to ignoring me.

“Guess not,” I murmured. The rest of the ride was quiet, and I tried to determine our location by the glimpses of scenery I caught. Greenery gave way to rocky and barren scrubland. The AC was cranked in the truck so it must have been hot outside. I was close to the Caspian Sea when I was captured, but had no way of knowing which direction we were going or how long we had already been travelling. The truck rocked along mountainous roads, and the sun was low when we finally stopped. I was brought outside, and the zip ties were cut.

“Oh good, a toilet,” I said about the ugly little building we stood beside. “About time, too.” I tried to work out the cramps in my shoulders without drawing attention to it. My words were casual, but there was truth to them. We hadn’t stopped even to refuel during the long trip, and several bodily functions needed to be addressed immediately.

I was shoved into the dingy building and blinked as my eyes adjusted to the sudden gloom. “The prisoner has fifteen minutes,” another grunt said, presumably the driver.

Thankfully, I saw there was some primitive plumbing and a table with bottled water and food packages on it. As I took care of the most urgent need, I evaluated my situation for the thousandth time. The grunts worked for Saxon, and Saxon wanted me alive. The food and water were safe then. Drugged, possibly, but not poisoned.

I noticed there wasn’t a mirror in the room, although there was evidence that one had once been installed. No glass to attack the guards with, or to... well. Last resort of a desperate man.

I finished and examined the food. Dried fruit and jerky. Army rations. It was better than nothing, and both the food and water tasted clean of drugs. I was slow in finishing up, wasting time until the grunts banged on the door and ordered me out. The zip ties were replaced, and our long journey continued.

I must have fallen asleep on the road because when we stopped it was night. The younger grunt jerked me upright and marched me out of the truck and on to an airstrip. A small prop plane waited for us. “Hey,” I said. My voice cracked from disuse. The grunt turned slightly towards me. “Could I at least have the decency to know what’s going to happen to me?”

The grunt turned away, but I could tell he was listening.

I lowered my voice. “I’m sorry about your mother, and anyone else they took from you, really I am.” I glanced at him, and his jaw twitched. “If they’re going to kill me, let me know now. I don’t,” I paused and swallowed, “I don’t want to die afraid. Give me time to prepare myself.”

His eyes met mine before he looked away into the darkness. “Saxon has requested that all those connected with Torchwood be captured alive and brought to the airship Valiant to await trial.”

I digested this. “I’m going to be executed?”

“That information is unknown. But the sentence for treason is the death penalty.”

“And the rest of Torchwood? Have they been captured?”

“That information is unknown.”

I nodded and stopped talking. If there was anything I learned from Jack, it was how to interrogate a suspect. The methods he used would never have been allowed in the world outside, in Gwen’s police force. Jack made the suspect feel alone, threatened, off-balance. The only way to relieve that discomfort was to talk, and so they did. I wondered where he learned such crude methods. Crude, but effective.

And I was suddenly grateful for the education. I could recognize when the same tricks were used on me. If the others had all been captured or killed, I wouldn’t still be alive. They would want me for questioning, which meant someone was still out there. It didn’t give me enough hope for a rescue, but it was hope, nonetheless.

Another transport truck pulled up and a man of obvious importance walked out. He was tall and grey-haired, and was physically fit despite his age. “This him?” he asked one of the solders, one I didn’t recognize.

“Yes, sir. Owen Harper, medical officer for Torchwood.”

The man walked over and looked at me for a long moment before speaking. “Do you know why you were arrested?”

“I’d hardly call it arrested, _sir_ ,” I added mockingly. “More like black-bagged in the middle of the night.”

He ignored me. “You are a traitor to the government, along with the rest of your terrorist group.”

“Terrorist? How can we be—we didn’t do anything!”

The man nodded like he agreed but had heard it before. “Take him to the plane,” he said to the young grunt beside me. “I will escort him to the Valiant.”

I was loaded quite forcefully on to the plane, and Sir took a seat beside me. Another mystery trip while I was left ignorant. I was trying to make myself comfortable enough to sleep when Sir spoke up.

“You’re the first one we’ve captured,” he said. I turned to him. “Of Torchwood, I mean. The others are still whereabouts unknown.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Nice to know I’m the worst at going underground.” But the statement fuelled my hope.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It took a considerable amount of effort to find you.”

“You’re right, that does make me feel better. Why are you telling me this?”

He faced me. “You assume that because the others are still at large that that means there is a chance of rescue, or completing your objective. I am assuring you now, there is no such hope.”

I stared at him. “What’s your name?”

He smiled thinly. “It is of no importance. You will not see me again.” He resettled in his seat. “Try to get some sleep, Dr. Harper. You will need your strength.” He didn’t say any more.

Despite his advice, I didn’t sleep at all on the long flight.


	3. Boredom

Daybreak over the Valiant. It was a beautiful ship, regally hovering among the clouds. Dread had sunk into my stomach, and I tried to appreciate the sight while I could. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be seeing the scenery for very long. The plane touched down on the airstrip and was instantly surrounded by soldiers. I was led out with Sir walking beside me.

As we neared a doorway, I asked, “Am I seeing Saxon?”

Sir shook his head. “No. The Master will call for you when he wants to speak with you.”

“The Master?” I had heard some people calling him that, but never thought he took it as an official title. “It’s a bit pretentious.”

Sir glanced sidelong at me. “Saxon never existed; he was an invention. The Master has revealed his true self and is better for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is like the Toclafane. He isn’t human. How do you not know this?”

“I’ve been living in ditches for the past three months,” I answered shortly. “Saxon’s an alien, eh? No shit.”

We walked through corridors and empty rooms. The surroundings changed from clean decorated walls to bare pipes and grating. “Feels like home,” I muttered. We walked passed a black woman in a maid’s uniform who shrank back into the shadows. She looked fierce; angry and hurt.

It might have been dehydration, exhaustion, low blood sugar, or any of a number of things that played tricks with my mind, because I thought I heard a familiar voice echoing obscenities down a side corridor, mixed with sexual innuendo. A spark of electricity drowned the next part out, and I didn’t hear anymore.

“Here is your cell,” Sir said. He indicated a doorway that led into a windowless but well-lit room. Small, but not cramped. Clean. Boring.

A door behind us closed, and I realized we were in an anteroom between the corridor and the cell proper. My restraints were removed, and I was suddenly alone with Sir. “What about my trial?” I asked.

Sir smiled ruefully. “You are a terrorist and a political prisoner. There will be no trial.”

I figured as much. “Any last words of advice?” I asked.

“Keep your head down,” he said. “Rebellion will only make it worse.” He then turned and walked out, closing the door behind him. He was right; I didn’t see him again.

And my imprisonment began.

I learned very quickly that you didn’t need torture to break a person’s mind. Boredom will do just fine and is a lot easier to accomplish. I had no windows in my cell, and the only way to tell night from day was by the automatic fluorescent light. I woke when the light came on, meals would arrive periodically through the day, and I slept when the light went off. I saw no other people. The food was placed in the anteroom, and I returned it there after I was finished. I couldn’t even complain about conditions; technically, everything I needed to survive was available. The food was regular but bland, with no sugar or salt, and only as much fat and protein that was nutritionally essential. I noticed I was losing weight, but not fast enough to look emaciated. The toilet and sink were automatically sterilized twice a day.

I felt disgusting. I wasn’t given any other clothes, and there was no soap. I could rinse my face and hair in the sink, but the rest of my body suffered. No razor meant that my stubble was permanent. Not to mention my mouth. No toothpaste or toothbrush were given, only an antiseptic mouthwash. I chewed my nails when they got too long. My clothes reeked, and I finally gave up on modesty and threw them all in a corner. I half-considered the idea of dunking them in the toilet and having them sanitized, but decided I didn’t want whatever chemicals they used touching my skin.

I tried to keep count of the days and how long I’d been there, but after fourteen days, I stopped caring. I had no way to measure time besides the light, and even that was probably skewed to warp my perceptions. I was never tortured or interrogated. I had no tools and no means of escape. I had nothing to fight against, no one to influence. My punishment was isolation and boredom.

My hair was long enough to stick up when I ran my hands through it when I finally saw another human being.

I was half-dozing on the little cot when a voice blared out on the intercom. I had never noticed an intercom before; it had never been used. “The prisoner will prepare for interrogation,” the metallic voice said. I put my boxers back on and sat on the cot to wait. Soon after, I heard the outer door slide open and shut. The inner door opened, and a nameless uniform stood before me, looking incredibly clean and well-fed. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell of disinfectant and unwashed human.

“You will follow me,” he said in a clipped Swiss accent. “You have been requested to be made decent before your audience.”

I didn’t answer, almost forgetting how to use my voice in the weeks of silence. I stood and followed the grunt. Another one appeared soundlessly to walk behind me. I was taken to an elegantly designed bathroom, and locked in. Everything was bamboo wood and frosted glass. There was a shower and sink with the necessary toiletries, and a small closet with scrubs hanging in it. I looked in the mirror and groaned. I looked like all my hangover mornings put together. I was pale and thin and scruffy. I stood under too-hot water scrubbing my skin raw. There was no razor, but at least there was toothpaste and a toothbrush. It was the first time I felt truly clean since we ran in Nepal. When I was dried and dressed, I knocked on the door and was again escorted through the bowels of the ship.

I only looked up when the floor changed from metal to hardwood. We were in a boardroom dominated by a long table. Windows lined the bridge, and I could finally verify that it was daytime. The fierce black woman I saw when I first arrived stood by the wall, along with a man and a younger woman. On the other side was an old man in a wheelchair.

“Dr. Harper!”

I looked up to the top of the stairs, and saw the villain grinning back at me. For a second, I was transported back, to when his face meant reassurance and improvement, when every celebrity and their dog were supporting him. And now his was the face who had killed 600 million people.

“Saxon,” I croaked.

He clapped his hands and leapt down the stairs. I couldn’t believe a mass murderer would be so joyful. I expected calm, cool, collected, maybe witty one-liners to amuse himself. Instead he grabbed a woman—Lucy Saxon, I realized with shock—and spun her around the room. I watched him make a victory lap, taunting each person he passed. I finally found my voice.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He stopped suddenly, like he had forgotten I was there. He dropped Lucy’s arms like he had forgotten about _her_ just as suddenly and walked to stand in front of me. “Ah, yes, you’re the foul one, aren’t you?” he said. “The defiant one, the one who says he—how do you say it here? ‘Doesn’t give a fuck?’ But secretly you want to solve the world’s problems as much as that wide-eyed doe Gwen Cooper, right? You’re _that_ role in his little team.”

He had spoken to me for all of five seconds, and he shook me to the core. Mentioning Gwen and Jack, how much did he know about all of us? What if he had found the others while I was captured? I doubted they would have let me know if they had.

“Lucy,” he called out. “Meet Dr. Owen Harper of Torchwood Three. He’s a protégé of Harkness.” Lucy smiled at me, but I wasn’t watching her. The younger black woman had looked up at Jack’s name, then quickly looked away.

Saxon was talking to me again. “Speaking of Harkness, any idea where he is?” I stared at him. “We’ve located all the others, of course. You didn’t think we needed you for that, did you?” He pouted a little. “Poor boy. No, I like hunting them. They’re more cunning than you were. But we haven’t found the pack leader, the one who organized this jaunt through the wilderness. And I hate leaving a collection incomplete.”

I swallowed. “What?” Living on gruel for god knows how long wasn’t enough to let me sustain cool disinterest. I was confused and dizzy. “We haven’t seen Jack in months, from before the invasion,” I stammered. “What do you mean, he organized it?”

“Master,” a voice growled. It was the old man in the wheelchair. Saxon didn’t turn around, but his face changed drastically, like a dog that had been yanked back on its leash.

“Fine,” he said. “Dr. Harper is welcome to watch the proceedings. So nice to have a _real_ doctor on board.” He stalked away from me, and I watched the old man. He brought Saxon to heel with a single word. Saxon obviously didn’t like him, but it was as if he was trying to _impress_ him. Who could have power like that?

Saxon barked orders at the soldiers, telling them to bring the ship down. We were all herded up the stairs and stood against the windows. I was put in a corner near the young woman. She glanced at me, and when she made sure I was watching her, she whispered, “He’s lying.”

“About what?” I whispered back.

“Everything,” she said, and turned away.

Saxon was speaking again. “You are all very lucky, you know. To be witnesses to this monumental occasion. Look out there; we are above the Sea of Japan, just six kilometres from the main island of Honshu. Go on, look.” He leapt up the stairs to join us.

The airship had lowered itself below the cloud bank, and the island was visible through the haze. The mountains rose up from the shore, which stretched north to south as far as we could see.

Saxon’s voice was close and soft. “Because this is the last time you will see it.” He was standing right behind us looking at the view. He turned to me. “One of your associates is Japanese, right? I wonder where she would hide.”

I felt cold. Tosh had gone east. I didn’t think she had any family left in Japan, but I couldn’t be sure. She was always trying to chat me up, and I never listened to any of it. I fervently hoped that she had gone elsewhere.

Saxon called to the soldiers. “Launch!”

We felt a rumble, then silence. That was the worst part. Everything was silent as we watched a dozen missiles fly away from the airship. No one moved as the first one hit. The young woman began to sob as the second and third hit. Strike after strike sent up plumes of smoke and fire, destroying everything in range along the coast. All in complete silence. Saxon could have sent those missiles from miles away, but he wanted us to see.

It lasted for hours. We moved along the coastline, firing at anything resembling a town. The airship seemed to have a never-ending supply of ammunition. We were made to stand at the windows to watch, along with Saxon. He had a hungry look, pleased and desperate. The old man in the wheelchair hadn’t been moved from the lower level and was spared the sight. I had a feeling his punishment was watching our pain.

It was nightfall when Saxon finally stirred. “Enough,” he said. “We’ll burn the rest tomorrow.” He grabbed Lucy, who had been present the entire time, and walked out of the room. “And get them back to their quarters,” he called behind him.

I was marched away back to my cell, newly disinfected yet with my stinking clothes still in a corner. I was allowed to keep the scrubs I was wearing. The door was shut behind me, and I was not granted the privilege of watching the rest of Japan burn the next day. I was left for what felt like weeks and had nightmares every night.

During the day, I pondered the young woman’s words. _He’s lying._ The meaning was obvious, but how much could be believed? _About everything._ Saxon said he already knew where the others were: lie one. So, they were still hidden, Gwen and Ianto and Tosh. Hidden, or killed without Saxon’s knowledge. It made me sick to think about it, and I knew, pragmatically, that I couldn’t afford to lose fluids from vomiting. I pushed them from my mind and concentrated on the question at hand.

Lie two: Saxon didn’t know where Jack was. That confused me the most. How could Saxon find him, but we couldn’t? Jack couldn’t be dead; we had all seen how well that worked. Either Saxon had located him and was toying with him or had already captured him. The woman had recognized his name. She’d heard it before, or had seen him. I remembered the voice I had heard when I arrived, and I knew.

Jack was on this ship. My mind was clear for the first time since arriving.


	4. Taking the Bullet

The next time I was dragged out of my cell and lead to the boardroom, the sky was grey and heavy with clouds.

“Welcome back, Dr. Harper,” Saxon said. He was in his usual black suit, while Lucy was dressed in a conservative skirt and jacket. Her eyes looked dull, and she didn’t react to us entering the room. Saxon’s attention shifted to the old man in the wheelchair, also wearing the same suit in which I had last seen him.

“We have new information on your little friend,” Saxon said to the old man. “Seems she escaped Japan and went north. She’s a slippery one, isn’t she? I didn’t think she had it in her to stay hidden for so long, especially from the Toclafane. But perhaps you helped her with that bit.”

She? Was he talking about Tosh? But it didn’t make sense for Saxon to call her the old man’s ‘little friend.’ There must be someone else he was hunting.

“She was last reported crossing the Chinese border into Russia. What do you think she was looking for there, hm? I’ll show you what she’ll find. Descend!” Saxon shouted, and the ship lowered itself through the cloudbank. We were pushed against the windows as before, and I managed to stand next to the young woman again. Our backs were to the room, so no one could see us talking.

“I know Jack’s here,” I whispered. Her head turned slightly to listen. “What’s your name?”

“Tish,” she whispered.

“You can talk to Jack?” She nodded. “Does he know I’m here?” Her face clouded.

“He asked us not to tell him if any of his team was caught. He said it was bad enough thinking about...” She risked nodding in the direction of the old man in the wheelchair.

“Who is he?” I asked, glancing around. Saxon was crowing madly by the board table, still taunting the old man.

“The Master calls him Doctor. He tried to save us with Jack and Martha.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she turned back to the window.

Saxon was coming up the steps, so I whispered fiercely to her, “Tell Jack I’m here. Tell him I’m fine, but I want off this damn ship. I know he’ll have a plan.”

We resumed our positions as Saxon approached us. He paused behind Tish, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he started his grandiose speech. “Observe. The former Russian countryside, now a monument to my achievements.”

Through the window, I could see the land had been completely razed and scored. At first, I thought that a forest fire had swept the area, leaving only barren tree trunks. As we drew closer, I saw that they weren’t trees at all; they were rockets. Thousands of them, stretching as far as we could see. I remembered that Ianto had gone north, and wondered if he had been caught up in this terrifying project.

“Can you guess why I have such an impressive armament?” Saxon asked. “Anyone? No? Day pass to the city of your choice if you get it right. No takers? Alright, I’ll just tell you.” He clapped his hands together like a child. “I’m going to destroy the universe!”

Silence met his proclamation. “Oh, come on, a little bigger reaction than that. I know it sounds cliché, like saying you’re going to take over the world, but I’ve already done that, so onwards and upwards!” He turned sharply towards the old man. “You know what those missiles are, right, Doctor? What they carry? It’s such an elegant invasion, no one will even see it coming. I send those up, and every inhibited planet becomes a black hole. Every planet that even has the potential for sentience, for knowledge, for return fire, will burn before it ever existed.”

Saxon walked down to the middle landing of the stairs, ignoring us completely. His voice dropped dangerously, and he spoke to the old man alone. “But that’s not enough. It’s not enough to be alone in the universe, is it, Doctor? There will always be that hunger for another to share that lonely life with. Always trying to replace what you’ve lost. But you’ve never taken that last step. Always too scared, too moral, too...you. We all thought you were the reckless one, who would throw yourself into danger at the first opportunity. But I’m doing what you never even dreamt of.”

He addressed the room again. The old man hadn’t said anything or shown any reaction. “I will create life. I have already helped create the Toclafane,” he grinned at the old man, “and after I wipe out the universe, I intend to resurrect my own race, reborn in my image, to spread and dominate all of creation. I will become their god.”

“You’re mad,” rasped a voice behind him. It was the old man. Saxon’s face twisted into a mask of barely contained rage.

“I have the most powerful machine in the universe at my disposable. What can stop me?” Saxon said. He walked slowly up to him. “You? I’ve stripped you of power. Your filthy little friend out there? She’ll have nowhere left to run. Every other rebellion is weakened or destroyed. So, what’s there to stop me!” he shouted. He pulled out some sort of tool from his pocket, and I felt Tish tense beside me.

“You’re a monster!” It was the older woman. She broke rank and stepped towards Saxon. His attention diverted, and he approached her instead. He gripped her chin hard and held her close. Lucy watched with a distant smile.

“Yes, I am,” Saxon said. “Make sure to look under your bed tonight. You might have a nasty surprise waiting for you.” He released her suddenly, and she stumbled. The man beside her caught her and pulled her away from Saxon.

He was pacing the room, looking for another victim, and I remembered the way he looked at Tish earlier. “Why did you show us this?” I asked, taking the bullet.

Saxon focused on me, like a hound scenting prey. “Dr. Harper. I almost forgot you were here, you’ve been so quiet. Why would I show you this, you ask? To make you feel small. To destroy hope. When I’m planning to make war on the _universe_ , what do I have to fear from people like yourself?” He spoke so calmly now. He liked getting close to people and invading their space. Another technique I recognized from Jack. I tried not to let it get to me. “They’re all dead, you know. Your team. My Toclafane found them and desecrated their corpses. They’re unrecognizable. Have a good night.”

He walked away and left us to be escorted back to our respective prisons.


	5. Hope

I was fucked and pissed off about it. I was learning, but could do nothing with the knowledge. Saxon kept giving us hints about the outside world, showing the monuments he had built, the cities he had destroyed. Each time I gained a little more information, some of it contradictory, but I was piecing it together as best I could. I learned about Martha, and the Doctor, and the gun. Nothing more was said about my team. I had seen no evidence of Jack other than Tish’s word, and she hadn’t said if he got my message or had one in return.

I spent my days listening to people talking as they walked by and waited for familiar voices. I tried not to get complacent, but found myself dozing as often as possible. I was slumped near the sink when someone knocked at my door.

No one ever knocked. Food was delivered into the anteroom, and the intercom told me when I was going to be moved. But now someone was knocking urgently at the outer door. I crawled over and knocked back in the same rhythm. _Knock-knock, knock-knock._ A muffled voice came through.

“Owen,” it said. It sounded like Tish. “3 o’clock. Be ready.”

“Ready for what?” I asked, but she didn’t answer. She probably only had that much time to spare.

I had no idea what time it was now, or how far off 3 o’clock was. How was I to prepare? I didn’t exactly have to pack. Prepare for escape? Or for something Saxon had planned for me? All Tish’s warning did was make me hyperaware of my surroundings and paranoid about every little noise outside my door.

Several hours passed by my reckoning. No sounds reached me. I became bored again, tired of waiting. Hope and anticipation were greater strains on the mind than anything Saxon’s grunts could throw at me. I started to doubt that it was even Tish who had spoken to me. Female soldiers were on board; it could have been any one of them.

Then I heard boots pounding past my door. Running and shouting. I thought I heard the word ‘rebellion.’ I was instantly on the alert. I stood with my ear pressed against the door to catch anything else. From what I could remember, my cell was mid-ship, and to the right was the way to the boardroom in which Saxon always held his audiences. To the left led deeper into the ship, back into the pipes and grating. That’s where all the commotion was coming from, and more grunts ran past towards it.

I heard shouted orders as several people stopped near my cell. Their voices echoed and were amplified by the stark walls. Voices shouted ‘stop’ and ‘fire’ and a terribly familiar voice replied.

“Here we go again.”

I pounded the door of my cell. “Jack!” I called, “Jack!” A volley of shots drowned me out, followed by a heavy thud.

My chest constricted. _It doesn’t last, it doesn’t last,_ I thought. _He’ll come back._ He had come back from bullets before.

I lost the fight and vomited in the toilet. I forced my breathing back to normal and rinsed my mouth. I needed to be prepared for whatever came next, rescue or punishment. More shouting and running went past my door, but no one stopped. No one came for me. Well, no one friendly.

Saxon stood patiently as the inner door slid open. I expected to be shot on sight, like Jack had been. But he simply stood there watching me. I stayed silent, wavering between showing defiance or deference. “There has been an attempted coup on my ship,” he said finally. “I have punished those responsible. Some more severely than others.” He played with the long tool and had a bored expression on his face. “None of you really matter. I would just as soon throw you over the side into the Pacific Ocean. But keeping you alive, weak and beaten, it just helps with morale. If _his_ little friend,” he sneered, “isn’t provoked into action by this, well, I might just have to murder one of you.” He began flipping the tool end over end. A benign gesture turned into a threat.

“You’re safe, by the way. She doesn’t even know you. But her mum, or her sister...they better behave themselves. No more slipups like today. Or they might get their fifteen minutes of fame.” He looked around the cell, and wrinkled his nose when he noticed my filthy pile of clothes. “Good day, Dr. Harper.” He turned to leave before adding, “And before you ask why I’m telling you this, it’s because you know I have the Doctor’s odd little pet. Dull, sweet, well-meaning Tish told you, and I’ve known about that for some time. Why do you think the soldiers waited until he was in this corridor to shoot him?”

“You’re enjoying this,” I said, not surprised.

He looked back at me. “Of course. Why would I do it otherwise?” He smirked as the door closed on him.

That bastard. I jumped off the cot and pounded the door, screaming obscenities at him. I had only bruised hands and a hoarse voice for my troubles, but it helped.


	6. Rejoice

The engines shut off.

The sudden absence of sound instantly put me on alert. The airship had never landed during my captivity, so something involving Saxon must have changed. He was expecting something, perhaps. The lights were off in my cell, meaning it was probably night wherever we were. The last time I had been let out of my cell, we had been over France watching the Eiffel Tower fall. We could be close to Britain. Home. The word felt foreign to me. Nothing was home anymore, not with what Saxon had done. I listened to the silence for a while, but when nothing happened, I drifted back to sleep.

I was awoken again several hours later. The engines were running again, and a voice screeched out of the intercom above me. “Citizens of Earth!” Saxon’s voice announced, “rejoice and observe.”

“I’ll put it on my to-do list,” I muttered. Saxon’s announcements never before reached my cell, so this one must be special. Of course, I was left blind and ignorant, as usual, so the proclamation meant nothing to me. I had long ago stopped being afraid of what would happen to me. Saxon’s mind games had worn me out, and I no longer cared what atrocity he was about to undertake. I felt broken and knew that Saxon had won.

Soon after, I heard shouting and running, and I didn’t move. I didn’t want to hear another failed escape attempt, another death outside my door. Voices shouting ‘Doctor’ and ‘escape’ failed to rouse me. The best I could hope for was the ship to malfunction and take us all to the bottom of the ocean.

Different voices. Metallic, childlike. The spheres. Their voices still sent fear spilling down my spine and into my belly. They were shouting as well. “Protect the paradox! Protect the paradox!” Nothing but nonsense. For the first time, I felt safe in my cell. I was separate from all the chaos outside. It was all too loud, too messy.

Another voice ran by, one that I had heard before on this ship and almost thought it was a hallucination. “I know where it is! Come on! The spheres are the least of your worries right now.”

I didn’t think I could move that fast in my weakened state. I was across the room and pounding on the door before I could think about it. “Jack!” I called. “Jack, you bastard, let me out!” One pair of boots slowed down and stopped. I waited. I heard the outer door slide back. I scrambled back as the inner door opened.

It wasn’t Jack, but a female soldier with wide eyes. “You better get out of here,” she said. “All hell’s breaking loose.” She bolted down the corridor without another word, leaving both doors open.

It was a trick, I thought. A test. As soon as I step out of those doors, I’d be gunned down. I had seen this kind of thing before in animals. Livestock trained so that even if the gate was left wide open, they wouldn’t leave the pen. The apathy I had felt before stirred sluggishly. I didn’t want to be livestock.

I stepped towards the door, and the floor suddenly rocked under me. I slammed into a wall, and it was the shock I needed. I tore out of the cell and ran blindly down the corridor. Soldiers ran past me in both directions. I realized that I was running down the familiar route towards the boardroom. The months of captivity slowed me down, and I was panting as I reached the double doors. I heard voices shouting, and a strange wind had picked up. _We’re going down,_ I thought. I heard voices shouting from inside the room, some nonsense about time reversing. I felt so weak. My legs couldn’t support me, and I slid down the doors to the floor.

If we were crashing, I might as well try to find a safe place to hide. I crawled towards a hollow spot in the wall. Ianto probably could have told me the proper architectural name for it, but to me, it was shelter. The wind and the shaking increased, and through a porthole, the light was shifting rapidly. Something deeply fucked up was happening, and all I could do was hang on until it was over.

Several ragged breaths later, the shaking lessened. More feet came pounding down the corridor. I looked up to see a band of soldiers round the corner, led by a man who wasn’t wearing a uniform. His clothes were ragged and dirty, and his face was covered in grime and dried blood, but he walked with strength and purpose in my direction. My breath caught as I recognized him. Jack. My captain, my salvation, my bane. He looked none the worse for his captivity, but then, no marks would show anyway. I shuddered as I thought of how Saxon might toy with him, unique as he was.

There were voices shouting from the other side of the boardroom doors, and Jack strode over to them without hesitation. He didn’t glance at me; he probably didn’t even know I was there. I had tucked myself into the smallest space I could find and deliberately made myself hard to spot. He was already past me when my brain recovered, and I tried to call out to him. “Jack.” My voice cracked. It was barely a whisper.

Jack opened the doors, and I caught a glimpse of Saxon coming the other way and nearly running into him. “Whoa, big fella,” Jack said as he gripped him by the shoulders and spun him around. “You don’t want to miss the party. Cuffs,” he said to a soldier.

I swallowed and tried again. “Jack.” A bit steadier, a bit louder. But not enough. Jack was already through the doors with Saxon and the soldiers followed him. One man at the back must have heard me because he turned and looked at me. His eyes held confusion and fear, but no recognition. He blinked, then continued after Jack. 

I curled up once more and closed my eyes. I was so weak, and the adrenaline rush from earlier left me drained and exhausted. I wanted to sleep for days, but was afraid that I would be sick and choke to death. No one would notice enough to help me.

Instead, I listened to the voices on the other side of the doors. They were intense, and desperate, and scared, and a few were unfamiliar. I barely twitched as a gunshot rang out, wondering idly who got the bullet. The screams started after that, and the sobbing. Then everything was quiet. I stopped fighting my exhaustion and fell into blissful unconsciousness.

The sensation of stiff and sore muscles was the first thing to enter my awareness later. My wonderful state of blankness was slowly being cracked and peeled away as I felt a hand on my shoulder. Someone was shaking me. “Sir?” a voice said, but the word didn’t mean anything to me. The feeling of latex appeared at my wrist and throat. “He’s got a pulse, but it’s weak,” the voice said. “His breathing is steady.” A crackle of static in response to the words. The voice was female, professional. The latex-covered hand gently lifted one of my eyelids and shone a penlight into it. I flinched away from it, and the voice became more insistent. “Sir? Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?”

I moaned.

The woman’s hands moved over my body checking for injuries. She asked more questions, testing my responsiveness. I recovered my senses enough to open my eyes on my own and look at her. She was dressed like a paramedic, not like one of Saxon’s grunts. When she saw I was conscious, she asked again for my name.

“Owen,” I said. It felt so distant. My name was something that belonged to the past.

“Okay, Owen,” she said. I noticed for the first time that she had an American accent. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Any dizziness or nausea, any pain anywhere?”

I shook my head no, which in turn caused a headache to stab behead my eyes. “No,” I clarified. “Just tired. Headache.”

“You’re very thin,” she said. “You look like you’ve been held in a cave for months. I’d like to get you back to our medical unit, get some fluids in you.” She spoke again into the radio attached to her coat, giving instructions.

There was something very odd about her speech. How else was I supposed to look? “What day is it?” I asked.

She smiled. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that. It’s September 17.”

That was the day of the attack. The Toclafane. Nepal. Ianto, Gwen, Tosh, lost to me for months. No, a full year. “How are you here?” I asked the medic. “Saxon should have his own medical staff.”

“Saxon? The Prime Minister?” She didn’t call him the Master. “Saxon’s dead.”

I froze, then grabbed the medic’s coat, surprising her with my sudden movement. “What happened? How can he be dead?”

The friendliness had gone from her. She reached behind her for her bag, likely looking to sedate me if I turned violent. “He was murdered,” she said. “So was President Winters. Saxon made it look like those Toclafane killed the president, but no one’s really sure yet who killed Saxon. Those aliens seem to have disappeared as well.” She shrugged. “Another hoax, I guess. We’re just clearing out the Valiant, making sure no one else is hurt. What are you doing here?”

I paused and thought about that. “This may be an odd question, but what year is it?”

She eyed me. “2007.”

2007? But I had passed a year imprisoned on this ship. It should be...but the woman was talking as if Winters and Saxon had been killed at the same time. So, a year had passed for me, but not for the rest of the world. Or it had been erased, or rewritten. It hurt to think about it too hard, so for the time being I chalked it up to time fuckery. That excuse had helped explain many other situations before. The medic was still staring at me.

“I, uh, I was a person of interest.” Close enough. “I think I’m just a bit disorientated from dehydration. Those fluids you mentioned earlier will help with my cognitive skills.” That snapped her back into medic mode, and she helped me to my feet and led me down the corridor.

Unfortunately, while we walked, I was able to catch my reflection in the polished walls. Long shaggy hair and a pale gaunt face covered by permanent scruff. It was a small blessing that I was unable to grow a full mountain man beard; at least I was still slightly recognizable.

As we walked, my thoughts turned to the others. I decided that this ship was the source of the time fuckery; the woman beside me clearly had no recollection of the missing year. She didn’t speak of Saxon with hatred, nor of the Toclafane with horror. So, what of the team? If they had been held captive like me, would they also have the same memories? If by some miracle they had remained free, would they have been caught up in the storm of forgetting? If they had been killed, would they return? It was a small hope, one that I tramped down and buried until I could prove otherwise. I had learned to mistrust hope.

“Where are we?” I asked the medic. The worry sprang back into her eyes, so I added, “The ship. Where did we land?”

“Iceland,” she said. “Nearest port of call. I just happened to be doing some training at the university when the call came for English speaking medical staff. I jumped at the chance. Just though here,” she said, pointing at an open doorway with a stairway attached. I walked behind her into the bright sunlight, feeling just as helpless as I had during my twelve nonexistent months.


	7. Epilogue

Time passed, and no one talked about it.

The others were fine. Tosh, Gwen, Ianto. Everything returned to Torchwood’s version of normal. I knew that we all were very good at hiding things from each other. Every single one of us had demonstrated that talent in the past. No one took notice of new habits or old lies. If any did notice, no one said anything. No one noticed my wasted frame. No one asked about my sleep deprived eyes. No one mentioned my frequent visits to the pub.

Jack returned to us. I was almost breaking under the strain of the leading the team, and they sensed my anxiety. Jack gracefully stepped back into that role, with all the bravado and bluster we expected from him.

I realized that Gwen and Tosh never made it on to the Valiant. Gwen’s outrage and Tosh’s shock at Jack’s return were too genuine. I wasn’t sure about Ianto. He kept things very close to his tailored vest, and his reactions were always private.

With the pressure off me, I quietly came undone.

I was still trying to drink the nightmares away, even though I knew it was a losing battle, when he found me. The wool sleeve appeared in my vision beside me at the bar, and an American accent ordered a stiff drink, emphasizing the ‘stiff’ part. He didn’t say anything until it arrived, and I didn’t look up at him.

“It’s over, Owen,” Jack said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“We should have been there,” I slurred. I wasn’t sure who I meant by ‘we.’

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.” He shifted on his stool to face me, but I still didn’t look up. I saw his knees almost touch mine. “You need to let it go, Owen. Otherwise, he destroys you all over again, every day.”

My breath felt heavy in my chest. “Jack...” My voice caught and I couldn’t say anything more.

A large hand rested on my back, rubbed back and forth a few times before returning to the glass on the bar.

“It won’t be easy, but you will put it behind you.” Jack smiled; I could hear it in his voice. “You need to be around for the next time we save the world.”

Jack was right. It wouldn’t be easy. I had noticed new habits in him, a restlessness and blankness that I recognized in myself. No one talked about it, yet I wasn’t alone. I needed to be there. That was the reason I kept coming back. It was the only support Torchwood could offer.

“Thanks, Captain,” I said, clinking my glass with his.

“No problem, Doctor.”


End file.
